Casablanca
by GeneHuntress
Summary: Sam and a broken-hearted Gene have left the Met to run a bar in Spain. Will Gene ever get over losing Alex? T-rated for now, but I suspect will be M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

This one's been nagging at me for weeks and my sleep was suffering, so it seemed the sensible thing to do was to write the thing.  
Inspired partly by Gene's mention of retiring to Spain and partly by a certain favourite film, its pretty much AU although there are plenty of references to and borrowings from the series. Love playing with these characters, although clearly they don't belong to me …

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**Casablanca**

**Chapter 1**

Gene Hunt stood tall, surveying his kingdom: chest puffed out, feet planted firmly apart, thumbs hooked in pockets, he was every inch the sheriff, minus the Stetson. Happy to wear casual clothes when off-duty, he still felt the need to make the effort at work so tonight he was attired in a sharp charcoal grey suit teamed with a crisp white open-necked shirt and his beloved crocodile boots, a fixture even during the summer months. Thank God for air conditioning, he thought: the Gene Genie does not, under any circumstances, wear sandals.

It was early by Spanish standards but already many of the tables were occupied, mostly with locals and ex-pats enjoying a pre-dinner drink but he spotted one or two tourists in evidence even though the season had barely started. Sam looked up from cleaning glasses and grinned at him.

"Evening, Guv"

"Evening, Tyler."

It was their standard greeting even though neither of them had been on the force for over two years now, and Gene appreciated Sam's little gesture of respect. He took a swift leap to one side as Annie came flying out of the kitchen with a heavy tray of tapas, narrowly avoiding a collision.

"Oops! Sorry, Gene."

"My fault, luv. I should know better than ter lurk right in the middle of the flight path."

He watched her weave her way expertly between tables and deposit the food in front of a couple of young women at a corner table, one of whom particularly caught his eye. Attractive, blonde, well stacked, and not part of the usual crowd, he noted: he'd go and greet them in a while.

His gaze travelled around the room as if seeing it for the first time, and he nodded to himself in satisfaction. Polished wood and original stone mingled easily with modern chrome, and an eclectic mix of mirrors of all shapes and sizes reflected light around the place. One wall was glass panelled from floor to ceiling giving an unhindered view over the terrace and down towards the sandy bay. To the left of the bar was a snug area with sofas and an open fire where daily newspapers, magazines and books were always available. Whatever the time of day, there would usually be someone happily hunkered down there with a coffee and a novel, especially in the winter months when the fire was particularly inviting.

He had to hand it to Annie, she'd got both the décor and the ambience spot on, and it was her idea to concentrate on serving tapas which had proved a great success both with the local clientele and the discerning tourists who tended to frequent the north of the island. She'd also chosen the name, Bar Casablanca, with its nod to the exotic and the romantic, and he'd grown quite attached to it now even though he still hadn't seen the film.

Majorca hadn't been the obvious choice, but when Sam and Annie showed him the photos from their honeymoon he'd been taken with the rugged beauty of this part of the island, a million miles away from the tacky resorts further south. Soon after the estate agent had faxed through details of the property, the three of them had flown out and been so bowled over they'd completed the deal in a matter of days.

Gene had the comfortable one bedroom apartment above the bar, and Sam and Annie were currently renting a little place just round the corner while they saved up a deposit for a house of their own. He had to admit it had all gone very smoothly: even though he was the major shareholder, decisions were routinely made between the three of them and disagreements were rare.

He worked his way round the room, greeting the regulars and stopping for a chat with the occasional new face, amused to realise that he was getting almost as good at this front of house stuff as Sam. Genial Gene. Now there was a novel idea.

Finally, he found himself standing in front of the two women he'd noticed earlier.

"Evening, ladies. I trust the food is ter yer satisfaction?"

The dark haired one had a slightly sulky expression, but the blonde smiled flirtatiously up at him.

"Lovely, thank you. You must be the famous Gene, then?"

"Infamous, some might say. Nice ter meet yer both."

He held his hand out and they both shook it, the blonde holding on to it a tad longer than necessary.

"I'm Katie and this is Susan."

"Are yer stayin' in the area, then?"

"Just round the corner. Only arrived yesterday and the holiday rep recommended Bar Casablanca, so we thought we'd come and give you a try."

Her eyes dropped briefly to his lips, and he didn't miss the implication.

"Well I'm very glad yer did. I need to go and tackle some paperwork but if yer like I can come back and buy yer both a drink later, maybe share some local knowledge?"

She positively simpered then, gazing up at him from under her lashes.

"Oh, please. We'd be very grateful."

He glanced down at her generous cleavage and wondered exactly what grateful meant.

"It's a date, then."

He flashed her the smile that few women could resist and made his way back over to the bar, intending to get a drink to take into the office with him. As he moved between the tables he briefly caught sight of his reflection and had to admit that living out there definitely agreed with him. The sun had brought out the natural highlights in his blond hair, his clear blue eyes were dazzling in his tanned face, and the healthier lifestyle meant he was several pounds lighter than when he'd first arrived. All in all, he felt pretty good about himself.

"Uh oh. Guv …"

Sam nodded in the direction of the door, and Gene spotted the familiar figure of his ex making her way up the steps. Bloody woman, did she never listen to anything he said? He thrust his hands deep into his pockets as she sashayed towards him, swinging her hips seductively.

"Carmen. Ter what do we owe this pleasure?"

She ran a finger teasingly down his chest, leaning in close, her voice breathy.

"I missed you, Genie. Take me upstairs and I'll do that thing, the one that you like so much …"

He felt the inevitable twitch in his groin and was almost tempted, but if he let her back in again he knew he'd never be rid of her. She was undeniably attractive with her dark almond-shaped eyes and buxom figure, and God knows she was great in the sack, but she was also clingy, demanding, petulant, and insanely jealous. He knew the regular clientele had got used to her antics over the last couple of months, and most were sitting back ready to enjoy the show. He crossed his arms, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm workin'. And secondly, what part of 'we're finished' did yer not understand? It's over, Carmen. Deal with it."

She pouted seductively, pressing herself against him and murmuring terms of endearment in his ear.

"You know you don't mean that, Genie. When we are together it is fireworks, no?"

"Well there 'ave been a couple of good bangs, I must admit."

He paused to enjoy the discreet chuckles from his audience.

"Trouble is, luv, yer just too hot ter handle. I've had enough. Once and fer all. Comprende?"

She took a step back and drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing, her chest heaving, and unleashed a tirade of Spanish swearwords, most of which he now understood. He had to admit she was impressive when her passions were roused, and he fought against the vision of her writhing underneath him as she ran her nails down his back.

"Bastardo! You know you cannot live without me. Within a week you will be crawling on your knees, begging me to come back to you."

She threw him her best haughty glare, and he raised a laconic eyebrow.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall you've been the one spendin' most of the time on yer knees recently, luv."

The chuckles turned to guffaws, and she opened and shut her mouth a couple of times before tossing her head, turning on her heel and stalking out, attempting to make a dignified exit. Gene breathed a sigh of relief and Sam grimaced.

"Ouch."

"Too harsh?"

"Just a bit. Still, we both know she'll be back for more, don't we?"

Gene shook his head in disbelief.

"I know. Yer have ter admire her tenacity, I 'spose."

Sam passed him a beer.

"Big mistake, getting involved with that one. What on earth possessed you, Guv? She's got trouble written all over her."

Gene took a slurp, smacked his lips and leaned over the bar.

"I couldn't 'elp it. She does this thing, yer see. Like Linda Lovelace …"

Sam held his hand up in protest.

"Whoa, way too much information, thanks."

Gene smirked.

"Maybe I should get her ter have a word with Annie? I'm sure she could teach her a thing or two."

Sam jabbed a finger into his chest, but his lips were twitching.

"I'll have you know I'm a happily married man. And a very satisfied one, if you catch my drift."

"Lucky bugger …"

Annie appeared through the kitchen door with another tray of food and caught them both grinning at her.

"What?"

Gene patted her backside affectionately.

"Just remindin' him what a lucky sod he is, luv."

She smiled flirtatiously up at him, and winked.

"Not in front of the old man, Guv."

As she moved into the crowd she glanced back, pursed her lips and blew Sam a kiss. Gene rolled his eyes.

"Think I'm goin' ter throw up."

"You're just jealous."

"Course I am, mate. Who wouldn't be?"

Sam saw the brief flash of pain in Gene's eyes before he wandered off in the direction of the office, and sighed heavily. Poor bloke, almost three years and he still hadn't got over her. He watched Annie chatting happily to a couple of the customers and wondered how he'd cope if he lost the love of his life. He shuddered, understanding exactly what Gene was going through. Still, at least he'd got the two of them and the bar, hopefully someone would come along and take her place eventually, put an end to this string of meaningless relationships he'd been indulging in ever since they'd moved out here. He looked across at the blonde, wondering if she might be the one, all the time knowing that she wasn't. The Guv was nowhere near ready to move on yet, and Sam wondered if he ever would be.

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So. What do you think? I'd love to hear from you, especially if you want some more. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the kind reviews and the encouragement, they do make my day. Anyone for the Gene Genie in trunks? Wonder if they were green and orange …

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**Chapter 2**

Gene emerged from the sea and strolled back up the beach to grab his towel, wrapping it round his shoulders until the shivering stopped. It was a lovely morning for his first swim of the year, but the water was still icy cold this early in the season even though the spring sun had some heat in it now. He dried himself and lay back on a lounger for a while, basking in the warmth, sighing in contentment as he felt it seep through to his bones.

He was meeting the blonde for lunch, and if all went according to plan it would be upstairs to his place for a couple more glasses of wine and some afternoon delight later. She was clearly well up for it, seemed disappointed when he didn't ask her back the previous night but a bit of anticipation would do no harm, just make her that bit keener. He rolled onto his front and stretched his long legs out, aware that he was attracting interested glances from several females round about. He smirked to himself. What was it about women on holiday? This place was just a playground for single blokes, filled with wall to wall totty all hoping for a heady bit of romance and mostly just getting a few cheap cocktails and a disappointing shag. At least he had the decency to wine and dine them first, and to make sure they didn't leave his bed unsatisfied.

A sudden picture of her disapproving face sprang into his head, and he pushed it away. After all, it was all her fault. If she hadn't left him… Something twisted in his gut and he stood, slipping on a pair of denim shorts and buttoning up his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a tall, slender brunette crossing the road in the distance, and there was something about her profile that made his heart flip. He shook his head and frowned, knowing it couldn't possibly be her. He'd seen her all over the place for the first few months, had hoped he'd got past that stage now but it seemed not. One day at a time, he reminded himself.

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The afternoon sun slanted in through the blinds, but the room was still pleasantly cool. Propped up against the pillows, Gene glanced down at the woman drowsing peacefully next to him, one arm thrown possessively over his stomach, and took another long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly. She hadn't disappointed, had been both extremely willing and very able, if somewhat vocal about it. Still, if the sound of her cries and moans of encouragement had travelled it wouldn't do his reputation any harm, seeing as she'd so clearly been enjoying herself.  
He decided to indulge in a little snooze before round two, his eyes travelling down her naked body with approval. Nice tits, he had to admit, even though he still hadn't settled on a bra-size. Without warning he suddenly found himself back in an airless vault, sweaty and short of breath, his mind assaulted by a vision in red satin with damp curls and big frightened eyes.

"Gene …"

"I know …"

"So. Are yer a 'C' or a 'D' cup?"

He closed his eyes and dug his fingernails into his palm briefly before lighting up again. Not much chance of that siesta now.

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Gene sat at the bar morosely, halfway down his second beer, wondering why he could never seem to lose that feeling of emptiness even after an afternoon of bedroom antics with an attractive bird. After all, most single blokes would kill to be leading the kind of life he was at present. No ties, his own place, plenty of sun and no shortage of willing females to keep him company when he wanted. He watched the easy intimacy between Sam and Annie as they shared a joke, her hand resting possessively on his arm as he whispered in her ear, and couldn't avoid the rush of envy he felt. He looked down at his feet guiltily. They were his friends, he should be pleased for the both of them, not resentful of their closeness. After all, it wasn't their fault his own chance of happiness had been snatched away so suddenly and unexpectedly.

His attention was diverted by a shifty-looking male seated on the terrace nursing a coffee and continually glancing at the two gossiping women on the next table out of the corner of his eye. As Gene watched, the man surreptitiously reached down behind him and purloined the bag of the woman closest to him, secreting it under his jacket before getting slowly to his feet.

Gene was off his bar stool and through the door before the thief had even reached the bottom of the steps, and swiftly had him pinned up against a wall by the scruff of his neck, struggling and gasping for breath. Confronted with six foot of irate ex-policeman he didn't put up much of a fight, and Gene escorted him back to the bar with his arm painfully twisted up his back to a round of applause from all present.

"Sam, call the police and grab me handcuffs from the office, will yer? Seems the old instincts are still working."

Sam grinned, reaching for the phone.

"Once a copper, always a copper, eh?"

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After the excitement had died down and people had finally stopped shaking his hand and patting him on the back, Gene retreated to the relative peace of his office to tackle the mound of paperwork he'd been trying to put off for weeks. Business was brisk as usual he was pleased to note, and Annie was kept busy with food orders while Sam manned the bar along with Miguel, the assistant barman.

Mid-way through the evening Sam happened to glance up from pouring a beer to see a tall, distinguished looking man in his fifties making his way slowly up the steps, relying heavily on a stick. Although he wasn't one of the regular clientele something about him was oddly familiar, and Sam furrowed his brow, trying to place the face. Alongside him, smiling up at him as she supported his free arm, was a leggy brunette who was clearly a good few years younger, and as she turned her head his heart leapt into his mouth. It couldn't possibly be. Could it? He swallowed hard, clutching the bar for support as she looked directly at him for the first time and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it really was her in the flesh.

Making her way towards him and looking just as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her was DI Alex Drake, late of Fenchurch East CID, the love of Gene Hunt's life and the woman who was responsible for breaking his heart nearly three years previously.

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I think that might be described as a cliff-hanger (sorry, Mo!). If you let me know what you think, I might be tempted not to leave things there for too long! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the kind reviews – I'm so glad people are enjoying this one, I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

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**Chapter 3**

Her hazel eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise, and then she recovered herself, beaming at him in genuine delight.

"Sam! I don't believe it. What on earth are you doing here?"

Sam tried to gather his wits somewhat speedily.

"I work here. Well actually, I'm part owner. What's your excuse?"

Alex smiled enigmatically.

"That's … a very long story. Oh, it's so lovely to see you, Sam. Is Annie with you?"

Sam nodded.

"She is indeed. We're an old married couple now, coming up three years."

"Looks like I might finally get to meet her at last, then."

Her mysterious companion had been waiting patiently during the interchange, and Alex turned back to him.

"Paul, this is DI Sam Tyler. I worked with him once when we were liaising with the Manchester police on a case."

"Ex DI now, of course. Nice to meet you, Sir."

The two men shook hands, and Sam realised she'd managed to neatly avoid declaring the nature of their relationship. He thought about Gene sitting in his office completely oblivious to the events currently unfolding outside, and prayed fervently that he would remain there for the time being.

"So, what can I get you both to drink?"

Alex grinned.

"A glass of house rubbish for me, I think. Although I should imagine it'll be a decent Rioja or something similar here. Paul?"

"Just a small beer, please. I think I'll find us a table, my leg is giving me a bit of jip tonight."

Something about his voice was niggling at Sam and then it came back to him in a flash and he blinked at Alex in surprise.

"That's Paul Henrie, isn't it? The foreign correspondent? I remember him being a regular on the news a few years back."

Alex nodded reluctantly, lowering her voice.

"It is, but I'd be very grateful if you could keep it to yourself, Sam. The fewer people who recognise him, the better."

Sam scratched his head.

"But isn't he …"

"Dead?"

Alex finished the sentence for him.

"It suits him to let people think so. As I said, long story. For now, we're just a couple of tourists enjoying a quiet drink, if that's OK."

Sam shrugged.

"Of course, no problem."

She took a deep breath, toying with her glass, and asked the question he'd been dreading.

"How's Gene?"

He tried to avoid her eyes.

"He's well, I gather."

Suitably neutral, giving little away without actually telling a lie, he thought. She cocked her head to one side, listening to the neutral 80s soundtrack playing quietly in the background.

"Not too impressed with your choice of music. You know what I'd really like to hear, don't you, Sam? Play it for me, for old time's sake."

"Sorry, I don't think we've actually got it."

"Got what?"

Annie was passing on her way back to the kitchen, giving the other woman the serious once over after she'd spotted her chatting away to Sam like an old friend. Alex turned to her with a smile.

"I was thinking of 'True'"

"Spandau Ballet? One of my favourites. I've got it on a compilation album in my Walkman, just give me a couple of seconds."

Sam grimaced and hung his head. Of course, Annie hadn't met Alex, didn't realise the significance, and there was nothing he could do now without giving the game away. Annie loaded the tape and the soft sounds of the intro drifted from the speakers as Alex closed her eyes, a dreamy expression on her face, transported back to another time, another man. She sighed heavily and her eyelids fluttered open again.

"I haven't heard this for such a long time. Better take Paul his beer, he'll be gasping by now."

As she walked away Annie raised her eyebrows questioningly at her husband, but just as he was about to attempt an explanation the office door flew open and all hell broke loose.

"Who put that bloody song on? I told yer I never wanted ter hear it again as long as I live …"

Gene drew himself up to his full height, all blazing blue eyes and testosterone, looking from a mystified Annie to a guilty Sam and back again.

"Not me, Guv …"

Sam held his hands up in a feeble effort to placate him, jerking his head towards the window by way of explanation, knowing he was just a helpless bystander now. Gene's gaze came to rest on Alex and he visibly floundered for a second, his fists clenching tightly as a myriad of emotions chased themselves over his handsome face like clouds across the sun. Shock warred with relief, anger with desire, resentment with need, and then the mask fell back into place as he fought hard to regain his composure. Alex, for her part, looked equally stunned, and then an expression of such longing and loss flitted across her lovely features that Sam knew whatever had happened to make her leave, she'd never stopped loving her former DCI.

Gene was the first to recover, moving slowly round the bar, his brilliant blue eyes boring into hers.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Long time, no see, Lady Bols."

His voice was soft, but Sam could detect the barely concealed anger bubbling under the surface. Alex couldn't tear her eyes from his, her fingers plucking nervously at her sleeve.

"How are you, Gene?"

Her voice shook slightly as she tried to regain control of her emotions.

"Can't complain. You?"

Sam almost winced having to listen to their painful attempts at small talk.

"I'm fine, thanks. And where are my manners? Paul, this is DCI Hunt, he used to be my Guv at Fenchurch East. Gene, this is..."

"…Paul Henrie. I know."

The two men shook hands, sizing one another up with intense interest.

"Recognise yer from the telly, Mr Henrie."

"Paul, please."

"Are the two of yer stayin' ter eat'? I know I'm biased, but the tapas are very good. Garlic prawns are tonight's special, better make sure yer both eat 'em, though."

Gene looked straight at Alex, his implication clear, and she coloured, dropping her gaze to the floor.

He left them poring over a menu, speaking out of the corner of his mouth to Sam as he headed back to the office.

"Fetch me a bastard big Scotch, would yer? In fact, just bring the bottle …"

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I know, I know – but having a character called Sam was such a gift I could only run with it! A glass of NZ Sauvignon Blanc from the South Island for anyone who spots the connection between Alex's mysterious partner and the film. :)

Pretty sure this will be M-rated from Ch. 4 onwards, seeing as we'll be finding out what went on between a certain female DI and her sexy DCI in the past …


	4. Chapter 4

Well done to Katie Duggan's Niece for spotting that Paul Henrie is a variation on Paul Henreid, the actor who played Victor Lazlo, on whom Alex's companion is based. I did think about calling him Vic, but that could have raised all kinds of speculation regarding Sam's father, which wouldn't really have been appropriate!  
Anyway, on with the story …

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**Chapter 4**

"Gene. It's black coffee. Just drink it."

"Don' wan' coffee. Wan' more whiskey …"

Sam sighed. It was almost two, the place was empty and all he wanted to do was get Gene settled upstairs so he could go home and get some sleep. Preferably before dawn broke.

"Guv, if you have any more to drink, there's no way I'll be able to get you up to bed and you'll end up kipping on the floor. Is that what you want?"

"Don' care. Anyway, I'm waitin' fer her."

Sam ran a hand distractedly though his hair.

"Have you any idea what time it is? She'll be safely tucked up in bed by now, which is exactly where I'd like to be."

Gene looked at him blearily, but Sam noticed he could still focus. God, the man's capacity for drink was legendary.

"Oh, don' worry, she'll be here. Won' be able ter stay away."

Gene was surprised how sober he still felt, considering he'd put away the best part of a bottle of Scotch on his own. It hadn't dulled the pain much, though. Or the anger. He felt raw, exposed, vulnerable, and he hated it. Hated her. Still loved her though, dammit.

"Of all the bars in all the world, why'd she 'ave ter walk into mine, fer fuck's sake?"

The anguish in his voice was tangible, and Sam's heart went out to him. He almost hoped she did turn up, maybe the Guv would get some closure at long last, although he didn't think he was really in the mood for an in depth explanation at the moment.

Gene sipped his coffee and met Sam's eyes again, and the depth of the pain he saw there made him flinch.

"Play it fer me, Sam. If she can stand it, so can I."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Are you really sure that's a good idea?"

Gene nodded and the younger man shrugged, loading the tape. For the second time that evening, Tony Hadley's dulcet tones filled the room, and Gene was hurled back to the very beginning …

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The mutual attraction had been there from the minute she walked in, even though they really didn't take to one another at first. He thought she was a posh tart who talked a load of psychobollocks, and she thought he was a Northern Neanderthal with all the social skills of a dry stone wall. And then slowly, gradually it dawned on him that her measured approach, her detailed profiling, got results, and she began to realise that his gut instincts and all his years of experience were often invaluable. They learnt to respect one another and to work well as a team. And even more surprisingly, they became friends.

He never quite understood it. On paper, they had little in common: their backgrounds, education, interests and experience were all so different that the cliché of 'chalk and cheese' could have been invented just for them, and yet somehow they grew to trust one another, to enjoy one another's company, and eventually to fall in love. It had crept up on him so slowly he wasn't really sure exactly how or when it had happened, but he would never forget the night they couldn't ignore it any more.

The Friday in question was Shaz's birthday and CID had taken over Luigi's for the night, moving the furniture later on in the evening so there was room to dance. Gene and Alex had found themselves seated at their usual table but something was different that night: he could never quite put his finger on it but they both knew it. They talked very little and yet somehow they were irresistibly drawn to each other, their faces only inches apart as their eyes betrayed them.

He knew there were some whisperings and murmurings going on around them but he found he really didn't care, and when the soft notes of 'True' filled the room and she offered him her hand, he forgot that the Gene Genie didn't dance. She walked into his arms and into his heart, her cheek pressed to his chest, his face buried in her hair as they swayed together, lost in each other. They were the only two people in the world as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and slowly, inevitably, she raised her sultry gaze to his and their lips finally met.

He was vaguely aware of an explosion of clapping and cheering and the odd ribald remark as she led him upstairs, but all he could see were her eyes, all he could taste was her kiss and all he wanted was hold her luscious body against his and lose himself in her sweetness. When he made love to her it was with exquisite tenderness, his hands and mouth wandering over every inch of her body, relishing the creamy softness of her skin and the heady scent of her as she writhed desperately beneath him, crying his name and begging for glorious release. Afterwards, there were no words necessary as the tears welled in her eyes and slid down her face and he kissed them gently away.

"Oh Gene …"

"Shhhh, luv. I know."

For the first time in his life he was trapped, tangled in the web of love with no hope of escape, and he knew it.

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They spent the whole weekend together, mostly in bed but occasionally decamping to the sofa and calling Luigi for food and wine. Gene answered the door wearing her fluffy bathrobe and had to fight off the joyful little Italian who would have kissed him on both cheeks otherwise.

"Oh, Mr 'unt, I am so 'appy. You and the lovely signorina, you are made for each other …"

"Yes, Luigi. Ta muchly. Now can I just have me takeaway before I die of hunger, please?"

A smirk tugged at Gene's lips as he was forced to listen to Luigi tunelessly whistling "That's Amore" all the way down the stairs.

Her eyes were shining as she sat on the sofa grinning, clad only in his shirt, her long legs tucked underneath her.

"You should wear pink more often, Gene. It suits you."

He snorted, passing her the wine and heading to the kitchen to plate up the food.

"Well there's not much point me puttin' me trousers back on, is there? Yer'll only have 'em off again in a few minutes."

He paused in the doorway and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not that I'm complainin', you understand. And it's your turn ter do most of the work later …"

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He had been worried that their blossoming personal relationship might affect their work and it did, but not in the way he'd expected. Instead of distracting him from the job he found her support strengthened him, and if anything he was even more passionate, more determined to clear the streets of scum.

They did, of course, manage to sneak off to the stationery cupboard on a regular basis though, and his desk enjoyed a decent amount of action of a type it had never been designed for. It was her fault, he reasoned: she couldn't leave his body alone and he was only human, after all.

A few months into the relationship Sam joined them for a while, chasing a known drugs dealer who was reported to have decamped to the capital when things got too hot on his home patch. The two of them were together in the office on the afternoon of his arrival, and it was only after Gene finally managed to tear his eyes away from her cleavage for a couple of seconds that he realised they were being observed.

"Sam! Come on in and meet my new DI. Alex, this is DI Tyler, a damn good copper and a pain in the posterior."

Sam grinned, shaking Alex's hand as he raised an eyebrow at Gene.

"And?"

Gene looked puzzled.

"And what?"

"DI … and better half?"

Alex blushed as Gene's mouth dropped open.

"How did yer guess?"

"Well, let's see. Gorgeous brunettes are just your type, you were clearly invading her personal space in a pretty intimate manner, and the body language between the two of you is a dead giveaway."

Alex smiled at him.

"I'm impressed. Are you trained in psychology then, Sam?"

Sam's grin widened.

"Nah. Ray and Chris told me on the way in …"

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It hadn't been long after Sam went back to Manchester that Gene had returned to the flat one night to find it empty, all her belongings gone and an envelope addressed to him on the table. Just a couple of terse lines and his whole world came crashing down around him.

_Dear Gene._

_I have to leave, and it's breaking my heart. I know you won't understand and you'll be hurt and angry, but I don't have a choice. I can't tell you why, just know that I'll always love you and the last six months have been the best time of my life._

_Take care of yourself, I'll be thinking of you wherever I am._

_Yours always,_

_Alex._

The note was tear-stained and had clearly been scribbled in a hurry, but it made no sense whichever way he thought about it. Why had she had to leave so suddenly? And why could she not have come to him first? He slammed his fist down hard on the table, before running his fingers through his hair, feeling like she'd ripped his heart out and trampled on it. And then he sat down and thought about it logically. He knew she loved him, and he was convinced she wouldn't be able to stay away for long, whatever had happened to make her go.

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Poor old Guv. I have a feeling it might get worse before it gets better, bless him. Still, I'm sure there'll be plenty of volunteers ready to cheer him up, if they can get past me. ;)  
Hope you're still enjoying, I'd love to hear from you.


	5. Chapter 5

I can't say it enough – thanks so much for all the kind reviews, they really make my day! You've earned yourselves another chapter.

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**Chapter 5**

As the final notes of the song died away, Gene sighed heavily. He'd been wrong, hadn't he? The hours had turned to days and the days to months and she hadn't returned, hadn't even bothered to get in touch. His heart just wasn't in the job any more after she left, and when Sam and Annie came to visit he told them about his vague plan to sell up, move out to Spain and buy a bar, and before he knew it the three of them had become partners in the venture.

He looked at Sam waiting there so patiently, unwilling to leave him even though it was the middle of the night and he should be tucked up between the sheets with his lovely wife. He knew he'd never find a better friend.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Go 'ome, I'll finish up 'ere."

The younger man shook his head.

"I'm not leaving until you agree to go to bed. Come on, I'll give you a hand and then I'll lock up before I leave."

Gene was just about to admit defeat when the door behind him swung open and there stood the cause of all his woe. He looked triumphantly at Sam.

"Told yer she'd come."

"Can I get you a glass of wine, Alex? After all, it's almost early by Spanish standards."

Sam smiled at her and she nodded gratefully.

"Thankyou, that'd be nice."

She slid onto a bar stool next to Gene, her eyes lingering on the long lashes and the irresistible pout, that handsome profile that had haunted her dreams all the time she was away from him.

"You look well, Guv."

He crossed his arms defensively, deliberately not meeting her eyes.

"No thanks ter you, then."

The bitterness in his voice cut her to the quick.

"I'm sorry, Gene. I came to try and explain, if you'll let me."

She took a sip of her wine, and Gene looked up at Sam.

"This aught ter be good. Think I'm goin' ter need another whiskey."

Sam shrugged and poured them both a measure.

"Me too."

"Don' spose there's much ter tell, though. Classy bird like you faced with a choice between an over the hill Northern flatfoot or a posh educated bloke off the telly? No brainer, really."

"It wasn't like that, Gene."

She touched his arm and he flinched, taking another swig of his whiskey before his steely blue gaze finally met hers. Judging by his slight difficulty in focussing he'd clearly spent the evening at the bottom of a bottle, and she realised this had probably been a bad idea.

"Fenchurch East not glamorous enough fer yer, then?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"If you only knew how much I've wanted to be back there again all this time …"

He turned to face her, ignoring her last remark.

"Just one question, Alex. Did yer leave me fer him, or were there others in between? Or aren't you the kind who tells?"

She felt the tears pricking her eyes, and stood up to go.

"I knew this was a mistake. The Gene I knew would at least have heard me out."

He drained his glass, slamming it down on the bar.

"Yeah well, turns out he was a fool, doesn't it?"

The door opened again and Annie walked in, just as Gene started to sway dangerously on his bar stool. Alex took a step forwards but the other woman was there before her, and her expression was not especially friendly.

"Just go, we'll take care of him. Sam, see her out and then give me a hand will, you?"

As she set off down the steps, the tears flowing unchecked down her face, Sam called after her.

"Alex, wait."

"What?"

"You still love him, don't you?"

She took a shuddering breath.

"More than ever, but he's never going to believe that now, is he?"

After she'd gone, Sam and Annie managed to manhandle Gene up the stairs and as far as the sofa where he lay mumbling to himself as she covered him gently with a blanket.

"What went on between those two, Sam?"

Sam scratched his head.

"Beats me. But she just admitted she's still in love with him."

Gene's lids fluttered open briefly, a glimmer of hope shining for a moment in his eyes, and then he fell headlong into a drink-induced stupor.

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He opened one eye tentatively. The mid-morning brightness drilled into his skull so he closed it again, trying to remember why he was on the sofa, and then it all came back to him. Alex. She was here and he'd foolishly let his pride get the better of him, lashing out at her in his misery instead of listening to what she had to say. She hadn't deserved that, and he still needed an explanation if he was ever going to understand and be able to forgive her.

He stood up carefully, groaning as he clutched his aching head, and headed for the shower. All he needed was a couple of aspirin, a decent fry-up and a bucket of strong coffee and he'd be as right as rain. And then he'd try and find her and make his apologies. He remembered overhearing Sam say she still loved him, so maybe there was hope yet.

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"If you like it, I can get you a discount."

She put down the handbag she'd been examining and turned to face him.

"No thanks, I was just browsing."

He removed his sunglasses and she winced in sympathy.

"Oh dear. I'm glad I haven't got your head today."

He shrugged, his hands thrust into his pockets.

"It's not too bad now, thanks, mainly due ter the restorative effects of bacon. Alex, I came ter say sorry. I wasn't in a fit state ter receive yer last night, but I am now. Come back with me and we'll talk."

She sighed, thinking how gorgeous he looked even with a raging hangover. She had to admit denims looked good on him, even though she'd always been rather partial to him in a suit.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea, Gene. Paul and I won't be staying long so maybe we should just pretend we never met again, it might be easier for both of us that way."

She looked down at her feet, but he took a step closer, lifting her chin so that their faces were inches apart. His brilliant blue eyes bored into hers, and a shiver of desire ran down her spine.

"Don't kid yerself, luv, we both know he's not man enough for yer. Sooner or later yer'll come lookin' fer me, yer won't be able ter stay away."

Her whole body was thrumming with need now, but she stood her ground and held his gaze.

"No Gene, I won't. Because Paul is my husband, and was even while I was working with you at Fenchurch East."

His eyes widened in suprise and his hand dropped back to his side as she turned and walked away, leaving him feeling like he'd been kicked in the guts all over again.

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Oh dear, another cliff-hanger! Please don't throw things at me – for anyone who's familiar with the film, that plot twist won't come as a huge shock. This is my version however, so anything can happen from now on …  
Hope you're still enjoying, I'm sure you'll let me know. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies for the delay in updating, and dedicated to my lovely friend Kim who pretty much keeps me sane (?) most of the time.

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**Chapter 6**

When Gene made his way downstairs in the late afternoon Alex and Paul were already occupying the same table as the previous night, and he nodded to them before accepting Sam's offer of a beer. He tried hard not to stare but his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself regularly glancing over in their direction. Truth to tell, he was still reeling from her revelation that she'd been married to Henrie all along. Why had she never said anything? And where had he been during the time they'd been together? There must be so much more she hadn't told him yet.

As the evening drew on, Carmen sauntered in on the arm of a handsome local and took a seat at the bar close to Gene, meeting his eyes challengingly as she draped herself round her new companion.

"Genie, this is Miguel. See, you have missed your chance now. And Miguel, he really knows how to please a woman, no?"

Her implication was clear, but Gene just smirked and reached round her to pat the other man on the shoulder.

"Good luck with that, Miguel."

The Spaniard already had a film of sweat on his forehead and the look of a man somewhat out of his depth.

By the window Paul observed Alex as her eyes were surreptitiously drawn towards Gene, noting the flash of jealousy when she realised Carmen was obviously an ex-lover and the way she paled when an attractive blonde walked in and wrapped herself around him possessively. He also watched Gene as he returned the other woman's kiss before buying her a drink, his hand resting easily on her thigh as he whispered in her ear and she giggled. Hunt might be flirting with the woman next to him but his gaze was continually travelling in their direction to see if Alex had noticed. He sighed to himself, knowing he had to face the truth. It was as he had guessed. And feared.

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Alex was seated in front of her bedroom mirror removing her make-up, but all she could see was Gene with that blonde, kissing her, touching her, flirting with her. She tortured herself with visions of them writhing together in his bed and dug her nails into her palm, biting her lip as the tears welled up in her eyes. Paul walked slowly up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers in the reflection, and there was no judgement there, just sympathy.

"Alex, you must have been very lonely when I was away and I know how that feels, believe me. You've said very little about your life during that time, and I haven't asked. I'm asking now. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't give her away.

"No, Paul. There isn't."

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"Can we talk?"

Gene looked up from his newspaper and his heart did a little somersault as it always did when he saw her. She was wearing a strappy sundress and shades, and she looked as stunning as ever.

"Of course. Here, or somewhere more private?"

She thought for a second.

"Private might be better. I've left Paul having an afternoon nap, but if he wakes he might come looking for me."

He nodded, indicating she should follow him and heading for the stairs at the back of the building. Sometimes it was useful to have a separate entrance to his apartment, he had to admit: he didn't really want to parade her through the bar and have to deal with Annie's concern and Sam's curiosity.

He headed out to the large shady balcony and pulled back a chair so she could sit and enjoy the view while he rescued a cold bottle of white from the fridge. Pouring them both a glass, he sat back in readiness, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"I'm all ears, said the elephant."

She took a sip of her wine and then bit her lip, a gesture of concentration he recognised all too well. He knew she was collecting her thoughts and stayed silent, his eyes drinking in the familiar outline of her lovely profile. She sighed heavily.

"I don't remember a time when I didn't know Paul. He was an acquaintance of my parents and a friend of Evan's, he was never patronising and always listened to my opinions, even when I was a stroppy teenager. I must have driven poor Evan up the wall most of the time and Paul did his best to help out when he was around. He took me to museums and galleries, bought me my first alcoholic drink in a posh wine bar and generally treated me like an adult, as someone who had something interesting to say. He was older, good looking and way more sophisticated than any of the boys my age, and I developed a bit of a crush.

When I went off to University we hardly saw one another, but he wrote to me now and then and I watched his TV career taking off with some interest. It was him that encouraged me in my ambition to join the police force when Evan really wasn't that keen."

She looked at Gene, and the glimmer of a smile played round her lips for a second.

"Ironic really. If it wasn't for Paul you and I would probably never have met. But I'm getting ahead of myself. When I started my training we began to see more of one another, at least when he was in the country, and friendship turned to something more. I admired him, I respected him and I suppose in some ways he became the family I'd lost. When he proposed I didn't think twice and we settled into some kind of a married life, even though it was hardly a conventional one. He was abroad a lot due to the job and I was working all hours trying to make DS and then DI so I suppose we pretty much led separate lives, but when we were together it was quality time at least. I really thought I was happy. My career was taking off, I was married to a successful man who doted on me, we had a nice house, no money worries …"

She paused, taking another sip of her wine but he stayed quiet, knowing the interesting part was yet to come.

"Obviously I worried, though. He spent his working life venturing into dangerous parts of the world, how could I not? But then, as he continually reminded me, my job was equally dangerous in its own way. It was just our life, you know? And then suddenly everything changed.

He was out in Colombia for a few months pursuing a story about drugs cartels when there was a massacre at a small village in the jungle, and he and his team were the first on the scene. They managed to get a couple of reports out which made the news all round the world, and then suddenly nothing. Nobody seemed to know what had happened to them, or if they did they were afraid to say. I was frantic, desperately waiting for news, and then someone from the British government got in touch. They'd been kidnapped by one of the cartels, presumably the one behind the massacre, and there were all kinds of ridiculous demands being made to release them."

She paused briefly, closing her eyes, and Gene reached out to cover her hand with his own and squeeze it reassuringly. When she looked at him again he could see the glimmer of tears.

"God, Gene, it was a terrible few months. Negotiations were going precisely nowhere, neither side would budge, and then the news filtered through. He'd been shot attempting to escape along with the other British hostages. I couldn't take it in at first. This man, this wonderful, inspiring, dedicated man I'd known all my life was dead. I crawled into bed and didn't get up for the best part of a week, then I pulled myself together and learnt how to deal with grief all over again. Eventually, I went back to work but the pitying looks became impossible to live with so I put in for a transfer and ended up at Fenchurch East. The rest you know."

She gazed out over the bay, and he picked up the bottle to replenish their glasses before leaning forwards and gazing at her intently.

"Jesus, Alex. Why did yer never tell me any of this before?"

His voice was soft and she swallowed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I wanted a fresh start, somewhere nobody knew about what had happened, it made the pain easier to bear. And by the time I felt capable of talking about it you and I were together and it was difficult to know how to begin."

She did meet his eyes then, seeing only understanding in their velvet blue depths.

"I would have told you eventually. I don't know, maybe I was just being selfish. After all the misery I'd been through I was finally happy, with the job and more importantly with you."

"Not selfish at all. Entirely understandable."

He sat back with his long legs crossed at the ankle, already feeling like he'd had a weight lifted from his shoulders. But he knew this was still a story without an ending …

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A/N. Hope I've managed to keep up the standard and all my very kind and loyal readers enjoyed. I would be particularly happy if you left me a review at the mo as my morale is lurking somewhere at the level of Gene's boots.

Unfortunately I'm going through a bit of a torrid time which may result in me being jobless in the near future, but I will try and distract myself with the next chapter soon if the muse behaves herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for all the kind reviews and the moral support, it really is appreciated. The next instalment …

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**Chapter 7**

"What happened that day, Alex? I need to know everything."

She fiddled with the stem of her wine-glass, and he waited. When she spoke again there was a slight tremor in her voice.

"You were working late and I'd stopped off on the way home to pick up a couple of nice pieces of steak and a good bottle of red as a treat. As I was unpacking the shopping, the phone rang. I knew straight away it was official, they used the same code words as previously. I had to sit down my legs were shaking so much …"

She gripped the table, lost in the memories again.

"Paul was alive. I couldn't take it in at first, but the person on the end of the line was most insistent. It seems he'd crawled out of the jungle a couple of weeks after we'd been told he was dead: he was found lying in the road with a gunshot wound to the leg and a serious head injury, unconscious and barely alive. By the time he reached a hospital he'd lapsed into a coma and it was touch and go whether he'd survive, but he's nothing if not a fighter, my husband. The thing was, he had no ID on him so the hospital had no clue as to who he was, all they could do was wait and hope."

She sighed.

"It was the best part of a year before he finally came out of the coma, and then he battled with amnesia for several months afterwards, still does to a certain extent. Apparently he used to repeat 'Alex' over and over, getting more and more frustrated when the staff assumed it was his name. He made steady progress, and eventually he woke up one day and remembered who he was. From that moment on, his life was in danger: he'd seen his captors and he knew the identity of several informants, knowledge the cartel would dearly love to have. And it wasn't just him. There was a serious risk of kidnap or worse for me as his next of kin, and potentially for anyone I happened to be intimately connected with. I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to leave everything behind and go into protective custody immediately. Soon after, someone arrived at the flat, gave me an hour to pack, bundled me into a car and took me to the airport. It was all I could do to get him to let me leave a note: in the end I burst into floods of tears and told him he'd have to take me kicking and screaming so he gave in, as long as I told you nothing about what had happened or where we were going."

She met his gaze and her eyes filled with tears.

"It was the worst day of my life, Gene. Having to abandon you like that so suddenly without an explanation and no idea if or when I'd see you again, and all the time knowing you'd hate me for it. At least I knew you'd be safe with me gone, that was some consolation."

He leaned forwards to top up her glass.

"So what happened then?"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose slowly and then continued.

"They moved him to a military hospital near Bogotá and flew me there to join him, and we were under armed guard for weeks while he recovered sufficiently to be repatriated. I swear when we finally stepped off that plane I have never been so glad to see a rainy afternoon in London. But knowing you were so close and not being able to find you and explain …"

She got abruptly to her feet and moved inside, standing with her back to him while she attempted to get her emotions under control.

"Anyway, he was offered a different identity, a new start, but he refused point blank. He was born a Henrie and he'd die one, there was no arguing with him, the stubborn, determined, pig-headed man."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"So now you know it all. We've been on the move round Europe ever since, constantly looking over our shoulders, never staying anywhere longer than a couple of weeks and living on our ever dwindling savings. And Majorca was a cheap option for a while, so here we are."

Gene lit a fag and took a long drag, looking at her rigid back as he blew the smoke out.

"Yer must really luv him, Alex."

She looked down at the floor and he could sense the tension in her.

"I've loved him all my life, he's a wonderful, inspiring, amazing human being. But I've never been in love with him, Gene. I realised that three years ago."

He felt a fierce surge of joy as he stood and moved up close to her, inches away but not touching.

"And why would that be, then?"

He could feel the heat radiating through her thin cotton dress and the shiver that ran down her spine as his warm breath caressed her neck.

"Because I finally fell in love. Utterly and completely."

His arms went round her waist and his lips found the sweet spot behind her ear.

"Lucky bloke, whoever he is."

She sighed with pleasure, leaning back into his chest.

"Actually, I think I'm the lucky one. Just don't ever tell him, he's already got an ego the size of Spain …"

He spun her round and at long last his mouth came down hard on hers, their tongues duelling erotically as her fingers threaded through his hair and he pulled her tightly against him. When he finally broke the kiss they were both flushed and panting, and he could see his own burning desire reflected in her eyes.

"Bed, Alex. Now."

He took her by the hand and led her in the direction of the bedroom, but just as they reached the doorway she froze.

"Oh God. You have no idea how much I want to, but I can't."

Puzzled, he dragged her back into his heated embrace and nuzzled at her neck, eliciting a throaty moan.

"Tell me ter stop, then."

For a second she offered no resistence and then he felt her stiffen and pull away. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"I'm married, remember? Not a widow. Don't you see, it changes everything."

He shrugged, trying to ignore the insistent demands of his body.

"Not ter me it doesn't. And it's not like we haven't made love before, is it?"

A tear slipped slowly down her cheek.

"I know. But I thought I was free to be with you then …"

She headed for the door and he followed, unsure what to say or do.

"Alex …"

There was a note of desperation in his voice.

"I need some time to think, Gene. I can't just walk out on him, he needs me."

She kissed him softly on the lips, her fingers caressing his cheek briefly before she turned away from him with a sob and ran down the stairs. Slowly he closed the door behind her and leant back against it, his shoulders slumped.

"So do I, luv. So do I …"

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Oh dear. I do seem to be putting these two through it a bit, don't I? Stick with it though, I have a feeling things will improve!

Hope you enjoyed, don't forget to let me know. :)


	8. Chapter 8

With genuine appreciation for all the kind reviews and votes of support, here's the final chapter …

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**Chapter 8**

He was sitting on the balcony smoking and mulling over the tumultuous events of the afternoon when he heard it, a small but unmistakeable tap on the door. She stood on the threshold, her expression unreadable, and he dared to hope again as he moved aside to let her in. Standing in the middle of his living room she turned her back to him and wrapped her arms defensively round herself.

"Alex? Is everything alright?"

Her voice was flat.

"He's left me, Gene. When I got back to the room earlier all his things were gone and there was just a note lying on the bed. Seems it's obvious that you and I are mad about each other, and he's worked out that we were in a relationship before I found out he was still alive. He doesn't blame either of us and he's ready to initiate divorce proceedings as soon as he gets back to London. Oh, and he's been offered some kind of job about which he's told me precisely nothing because it's top secret."

He couldn't prevent the feeling of joy which suffused his selfish soul.

"But that's good news, isn't it? Assumin' yer still luv me …"

She spun round to face him.

"You know I love you with all my heart, but that's not the point."

He scratched his head, his brow furrowed.

"Explain it ter me, then. You still want me, I still want you, yer husband's done the decent thing and offered yer a divorce … so where's the problem?"

She began to pace up and down in front of him.

"You don't get it, do you? I've had absolutely no say in anything that's happened to me in the last three years, and now I haven't been consulted in this either. He could have least asked for my opinion first, bloody man. I'm not a child, after all."

He sighed, realising he would need to tread carefully here.

"Bols, yer've always been yer own woman. I should know, I've had the punch in the gob to prove it."

He rubbed his jaw ruefully and noted the a glimmer of a smile tugging at her lips as he took a couple of paces towards her, holding her at arms length as his eyes searched hers.

"I'm sure he thought he was doin' the right thing by lettin' yer go, luv. And after all, you do still have a choice, yer can follow him back ter London if yer like. Alex, you know how I feel. I still want yer, I always will, but it's your decision …"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as she dragged his head down for a burning kiss, and they both gave themselves up to the sensual assault of lips and tongues as three years worth of desperate longing finally found an outlet.

His hand moved up to fondle a breast eliciting a gasp of pleasure, and then their fingers were wrestling with clothing as he backed her slowly into the bedroom, lifting her dress over her head in one smooth movement, desperate to touch soft warm skin.

She pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him, and he reached round to unclip her bra, his lips fastening on a taut nipple and sucking hard.

"Oh God … Gene …"

He rolled her onto her back, his mouth plundering hers again while his hands wandered restlessly over her body as if reacquainting themselves with every inch of her. When he eventually broke the kiss, her eyes were dark with desire.

"Need you inside me …"

Disentangling himself reluctantly, he stripped off his remaining clothing while her gaze raked over his tall tanned body.

"You look good, Gene. This life obviously suits you."

She wriggled out of her underwear and he settled between her thighs, pausing for a second to run a thumb along her jaw, his silver gaze locked with hers.

"Trouble is, there was always one important thing missin', luv. You …"

As he slipped slowly into her and she wound herself round him possessively he knew why all the other encounters had left him so unsatisfied. They weren't her.

He buried his face in her neck, filling his nose with her sweet perfume, feeling the crush of her breasts against his chest as she held him tightly against her. His voice was a low growl.

"God, Alex. I can never get close enough …"

He couldn't wait any longer, moving inside her hard and fast, watching the blissful expression on her face as she dug her nails into his shoulders and met him thrust for thrust, taking everything he had to give.

"Oh Gene … please … don't stop … don't ever stop …"

Just as he realised he was lost she stiffened beneath him, her body convulsing and shuddering through waves of pleasure as she gave herself up to ecstatic release. He drove into her one last time, groaning and cursing, and the world fell away as he finally found blissful completion in her arms.

Afterwards they remained entwined, reluctant to move, as the sweat gradually cooled on their skin and their bodies slowly came down from the rapturous high.

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He woke sometime in the early hours, confused and disorientated, and realised her side of the bed was empty. Grabbing a robe, he padded into the living room and found her seated on the balcony wearing one of his shirts, transfixed by the sight of dawn breaking over the sea.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He plonked himself down next to her, and she smiled affectionately at his mussed hair and heavy-lidded eyes.

"Wouldn't know, luv. I'm usually in bed sound asleep, which is where you should be now."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

He pouted at her.

"Well, I'm up now, yer might as well share. Cuppa?"

"Please."

She nodded gratefully and he went off to the kitchen, returning soon after with two steaming mugs of tea.

"You seem to have done a lot of listening to me going on over the last twenty-four hours, Gene. You must be getting fed up with it."

He grinned wickedly at her.

"Nah, it's fine. Long as I get a good shag or two in between, I'm happy."

She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching with amusement.

"Typical bloody man."

"Well, out with it, woman. Then we can go back ter bed."

She sighed, stroking his cheek, and he turned his face to kiss her palm tenderly.

"Gene, you know I love you with every fibre of my being, it's just … if I want to be with you, I have to be here and I feel like I've had yet another choice taken away from me."

He waited, knowing there was more to come.

"I've felt like a nomad for too long now: I miss the job, and I miss home. I was dragged away from it all through no fault of my own and I'd dearly love to go back and pick up the threads of my old life, but if that means leaving you …"

She wiped a tear away, and he opened his arms wide.

"Come here."

Shifting into his lap, she buried her face in his neck and he kissed the top of her head, nuzzling into her hair.

"Alexandra Drake, yer can be such a daft mare sometimes. The only reason I came out here in the first place was because you left and I couldn't stand it without yer. If yer want ter go back, we'll go back. I'll stay a sleeping partner and Sam and Annie can run this place without me, or we can sell up if that's what they want."

She leant back, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

"Do you really mean it? You wouldn't mind?"

He cupped her chin between his long fingers and kissed her softly, lingeringly on the lips.

"I'm not losing yer again, Bols. And I don't mind where we end up as long as we're together. Although I might draw the line at Liverpool, I do have some standards."

He pouted at her, his eyes twinkling, and she leant in to nibble his bottom lip.

"Actually, it would be really nice to have a few months out here before we go back, wouldn't it? We do have some serious catching up to do, after all. Speaking of which, fancy round three?"

She extricated herself from his embrace and held her hand out, smiling seductively, and he laced his fingers through hers before following her in the direction of the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and pulled her back into his arms, a smile tugging at his lips as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Something tells me this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Bols …"

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A/N. I've really enjoyed writing this one and learnt a lot from doing so, I just hope the ending lived up to everybody's expectations.

For those who've seen the film, I always thought that poor Ilsa was not only a victim of fortune but also at the mercy of other people's choices (and the Production Code, as KDN quite rightly pointed out) and I wanted to address that, this being a modern reworking. I'm sure Paul and Alex will always remain close, and he and Gene will become firm friends in time.

And the comment about Liverpool is entirely Gene's. You can trust me on this, seeing as my lovely bloke is half Scouse!


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